


Haunted

by Jenny Colt (LadyBernkastel)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBernkastel/pseuds/Jenny%20Colt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is still haunting me, like a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

Pale finger tips traced the lines of dry ink resting on the once white fabric of the big shirt, every of them from a different color and time, every of them bringing back some part of his past. The shirt didn’t cling to your body as it did to his, but his smell still lingered in the tainted fabric. The way your lips part and his name leave them in something similar to a cry, anyone would think he was touching your skin and kissing your lips. Yet, he wasn’t there anymore and you asked yourself if he had once been there to begin with. 

Always so distant from you even if he was sitting so close, your shoulders touching and his scent and warmth surrounding you. The way his eyes would wander across your face as you spoke, like he was searching for something he could not find. You shut your eyes and let out a shaky breath, everything you ever dreamed of for the two of you was shred into pieces by him. Every day he would be at your door, hands behind his back and a smile tugging at his lips. He would take you in his arms, whisper things in your ears, his fingers would play with your hair in a way he always did since he met you.

Everything was just empty, though. His actions, his words, his love. You were empty, too. You’ve lost everything to him, you’ve lost yourself to him. People change, people grow, but he drained you from yourself. He stripped you down from yourself. It made you sick to know you surrendered to him so easily, but one your fingers ran across the stains of the ink he used as he painted, everything was forgotten and you just wish you could have him back. Yet, you wouldn’t go after him. Since he came in, you knew he would eventually leave. You just didn’t know when. You just didn’t know he would take so much with him.

The touch of his lips against your skin, you could still remember it. His warm hands tracing, exploring, discovering every inch of your body. The way his lips fell upon your and suddenly you were yanked away from the world to a new one were only you and him existed, his hands holding you tight and helping to pull you into this, into his world. His fingers would trace your neck slowly, inching up until they met your chin, your lips. His eyes locked on your face as if you were something divine, as if you really meant something to him. Everything, everything you saw in his eyes came only from your mind. Yet, you would fall deeper into the abyss, into him. Because you couldn’t see anything, it was all dark. And he was the only light you had.

His lips touching yours, his tongue asking for entrance, your lips parting. It was breathtaking, the effect he had on you. His hands holding your waist, the back of your neck, pulling you into him. He wanted to draw you in and trap you there in his arms, for you to be ever dependent of him. So you would go every time he called you. It did worked, because you were still thinking about him after all this time. You were drowning into the memory of him you had, into this him he created for you. Was it ever real, solid? Or was it all like this memories you savor on your own?

The way he held you against the wall, his lips nipping at the soft skin of your neck, his tongue tracing all the marks he made just moments before. His fingers tugging at your shirt, pushing it out of his way. The soft, sweet sounds coming from your lips he said he loved to hear. His voice murmuring unpublishable things against your skin as his lips traced down to your chest, his hands tugging at the piece of clothing that kept him from reaching the skin he wanted to savor so bad. A click and it was gone, his lips now replacing the fabric that once covered you. Your cheeks burned, but he didn’t left any space for you to feel embarrassed and try to cover yourself. Every thought was pushed out of your mind as his tongue traced your breast slowly, reaching the spot that was aching for his touch. He knew it, he could read your reactions very well now. You had reached that stage several times now, to let him touch and savor you, to do the same for him. Yet, you were scared. Scared of giving in completely. Scared you would lose yourself then.

His hand trailed down your waist, your hips, moving closer to where he really wanted to touch. You would arch your back, your hips, into his mouth, into his fingers. You would writhe and cry, ask for more, call his name. You had lost this game way before you had even realized it, he knew the perfect way for you to give in, he had always known it. It seemed he only was waiting for the right moment to ask for more. His fingers pushed your skirt down, it falling to your knees as his hand didn’t hesitate before sneaking under the only fabric remaining over you. His finger would trace you slowly, teasingly as his tongue traced a circle across your nipple. He could never stop. He always wanted more. Step by step, until you were all his.

Your fingers would bury in his dark hair, massage his scalp while you begged for more. He would flash you a smile and look you in the eye before he was finally on his knees, holding your thigh and placing it over his shoulder. You didn’t even knew how it happened, but you were there, you were his. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed down the remaining fabric, only dropping his gaze after you were finally revealed to him. His tongue swiped across his lips, as if he had been waiting for his favorite sweet and would finally have it. He leaned in, his eyes shifting back to yours as his tongue sneaked out to trace your sensitive skin. Your legs would tremble, your heart would skip a beat, your lips would part and let out disconnect words. You needed him so bad and could not live without him anymore.

He would hold your hips tight enough to leave the marks of his fingers, not minding if anyone would see that in your skin, not minding if you minded it. You were his to do as he pleased, to be marked and claimed by him. You liked it, though, to be submitted to his will, to have him overpower you. Because you thought you had power over him too, because you though that meant he needed, wanted, loved you. 

You saw things in his eyes that never were there, you always saw too much in too little. But you were always so content with it, you let him own you. You let him have you wrapped around his fingers, you lost it. You lost yourself to him. Was it worth it? You trusted him, he was a friend, the best, he was always there. What he had become? It didn’t matter. You would whine, moan, melt into him. His finger was pushed into you and in that moment you knew you had crossed all limits stablished before, you knew there was no coming back. But it wasn’t important, you had him, he had you, you were fine, you were safe. Even if they were all lies. You just needed him to be there, touching you, showing you things you didn’t know. It hurt, but didn’t hurt more than when he shred you into pieces. He kept is slow, as if he wanted to make you cry and beg, as if he wanted to make you think he cared, as if he wanted to be gentle and teach you. Which of them was right? You didn’t know, you didn’t care. His tongue was tracing the sensitive bud, your legs were trembling, his lips were wet, wet with you, damped in you. He was yours, you were his. He didn’t say anything, he only made you do exactly what he wanted. You fell into his game, you lost. He had everything. Jackpot. You lost. Game over.

Every time you remembered that - the way he enthralled you, he made you his, but never gave himself to you, you feel sick, sad, happy, you want more. But you don’t show it. You don’t go after him, you don’t tell anyone. He talks to you. How are you? You are fine, you don’t need him anymore. You say, you lie. Like he did. What is left of you? You want him, but you won’t let him have you anymore. Wait, he already has. You are pushed into your memories once more, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Tracing you, touching you, owning you. You are lost. You are his. There is nothing more in this world that matters. He, him, his. What are you? 

His finger moved in and out, it didn’t hurt so much anymore, you were slowly growing used to it. He smiled, looking into your eyes before pulling his finger out. His tongue replaced it, pushing into you. Your body was shaking, your forehead was covered in sweat, your scents were mixing. You wanted him to do as he pleased. You wanted. You would always want him. You cried, tried to move, but he didn’t let you do it. You were his, you were his, you were his. His steel grey eyes were open, lidded, watching you, watching the power he had over you, savoring it more than he savored your taste. They both were sweet. He needed you, this power, this taste. Everything. He owned you, he had you. You liked it, you loved it. You were his toy. You didn’t have a heart.

He knew about your bad habits, he shared them. He drank, you smile. You smoked, he shook his head. You fell into things you weren’t supposed to, you didn’t know well. He was happy. To see you fall, to help you fall, to fall with you. Please, don’t leave me. He took another sip of his wine, he poured it into you, he cleaned it. He was like decay, he rotted the ground that lead your way. You were falling, helpless. The drugs, the drinks, his hands all over you. He loved it. Suddenly your body spasmed and you were passed it, your legs shaking and growing numb on his shoulders. Your head falling back, eyes snapping shut. He didn’t stop, your body sensitive, his touches making your sounds grow louder. He had you, he owned you. You wanted more. He slowly helped you sit on his lap, his arms tight around you as he pressed his lips hard to yours and made you taste yourself. He was better than the drugs, he was addiction itself. You couldn’t help it.

Pushing you down, into the ground, he was over you, his hands everywhere. Your head was spinning, you were dizzy. His love was nothing compared to all the things you had before in your life, to all the drinks you two would drink as you went to all of the parties. It was nothing compared to it. Why did you stayed home that night? You were supposed to be with your friend. You didn’t care. Everything had disappeared, everything but him.

Your hands moved to push his shirt away, you wanted to feel his skin, to leave your own marks at him. He pushed your hands away. He held them above your head. He cracked open his eyes and told you to be quiet. You did. He sat on top of you, you didn’t mind his weight crushing you, the bulge in his pants pressing tight to your bare skin. He stripped himself, looking you in the eye. He wanted you to be drove insane. He didn’t ask anything, he leaned down and kissed you, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, he tasted you, claimed you. He needed that. It was the only control he had over anything in his life. He was drowning, he was going crazy. He didn’t have limits anymore. Without a warning, asking if your were ready, you just felt him invading you. Your eyes shut tightly, you bit his tongue by accident. It hurt, he knew it would, he didn’t give you what you needed to be ready for him. He wanted it to hurt, to be craved into you, for you to remember. He needed that.

The nights spent awake after that first one, the studies and parties forgotten, there were only you and him. All the things he did from that point you, all of the secrets he shared with you, the things he liked, the things he did. He liked it that way, and you eventually grew to like them too. The torture, the pain, the crescent need for more. You didn’t need to rest, you only needed him to show more of what he liked. When his hand hit your skin, squeezing it before moving down again. You were too young to have seen such dirtiness in his mind, he was older, he should have known better. He didn’t care, he wanted you, he perverted you. He changed you, he stripped you from your own will. You were his, his puppet, his doll, his pet, his. You liked it, you loved it. His hand around your neck, the way it felt as your senses went into overdrive, your body shaking as you could feel things more intense than they already were. He knew it, he wanted to have you addicted to it.

He was moving slow, being gentle at first. It was the first time you had ever let anyone this close to you, the first time you ever allowed anyone into your heart in such a way. He knew that, he loved that, he wanted more of that. He just wanted to have him all over you. To be forever craved in you, to be a ghost, to haunt you till your very end. To have his kinks and pervertions craved into you like he was. He wanted to make you his little experiment, to make you see things the way he saw. And you gasped the first time his hand wrapped around your neck. He said it would be fine, don’t be scared. You believed in him, you trusted him. He started moving faster, you could hear his sounds and the sounds your bodies made as they met. Loud grunts, wet sounds, his hand squeezing your neck hard, the other falling against your skin. What have you gotten into? Who was this man with you? He was so different than the one you knew, than the one you thought he were. It was even better, you loved it, loved him, loved all the things he did to you. The way he slammed into you and made you scream, cry out, call his name. The way you were so dependent, addicted. He wanted that.

He owned you. He still does. He haunts you in your sleep, in your every breath. You wear his old clothes, you think, you dream about him. He doesn’t talk to you, he doesn’t see you. He has locked himself in his world, he didn’t see anyone, he didn’t talk to anyone. Who is he? Who is he? Where is he? Is he okay? He needs to come back. I can’t let him come back. I need him. I don’t. He’s mine. Never was. He is a part of me. The ghost. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.


End file.
